


(stär-vā′shən)

by MemeKonYA



Series: A lifetime of us [8]
Category: Young Avengers
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 17:21:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7693000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MemeKonYA/pseuds/MemeKonYA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You can’t keep your hands to yourself, huh, Handsy McHandserson?”</p><p>Teddy frowns at her, and she rolls her eyes at him, nods at his hand, resting on Billy’s thigh, the tip of his pinky finger closer to Billy’s junk than it’s probably polite.</p><p>“Oh,” he exhales, in embarrassed awe. He makes to take his hand away, but Cassie just punches him lightly on the arm, gives him one of her boyish, charming smiles.</p><p>“Hey, I was joking with you! It’s fine. I think it’s cute.”</p><p>“Oh,” he repeats, and feels like a broken record. “Thanks?”</p><p>Cassie rolls her eyes at him again, good naturedly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(stär-vā′shən)

**Author's Note:**

> 'Starvation'

Teddy only notices because Cassie remarks upon it, lighthearted and not really meaning anything about it. Just a jab between friends.

“You can’t keep your hands to yourself, huh, Handsy McHandserson?” 

Teddy frowns at her, and she rolls her eyes at him, nods at his hand, resting on Billy’s thigh, the tip of his pinky finger closer to Billy’s junk than it’s probably polite. 

“Oh,” he exhales, in embarrassed awe. He makes to take his hand away, but Cassie just punches him lightly on the arm, gives him one of her boyish, charming smiles.

“Hey, I was joking with you! It’s fine. I think it’s cute.” 

“Oh,” he repeats, and feels like a broken record. “Thanks?”

Cassie rolls her eyes at him again, good naturedly.

Billy doesn’t seem to notice their exchange, the way Teddy’s world tilts on its axis, still deep in discussion with Kate about the practicalities and impracticalities of their current suits (Kate wants to get rid of the cape, Billy is  _ indignant _ ).   
  


Now that Cassie’s made him  _ see _ , he can’t  _ unsee _ . 

A hand on a shoulder, fingers gripping a wrist, his arm around Billy’s waist-- almost  _ proprietary _ . He never notices the impulse soon enough to cut it off, only ever catches himself mid gesture, curling his fingers around any part of Billy he can reach, only ever startles himself into acknowledgment when he’s already putting pressure behind the tips of his fingers, thumb rubbing at whatever patch of naked skin it can get to.

It makes his gut burn with something, intense and scary. 

He can never bring himself to retrieve his hands away when they are already on Billy, holding on to him, vise-like if only in intent. He feels them heavy and clumsy on Billy’s slimmer frame, and it’s only the fact that Billy doesn’t look weighed down at all that reminds him that his touch is feather like, that he puts hands on Billy all the time, and that his hands have learned to be gentle and unimposing.

“Earth to Teddy?” Billy is looking at him with a bit of amusement dancing around his eyes.

“Sorry,” he says, and gives Billy an abashed smirk, “got distracted.”

Billy flushes in return at the connotations he hears in Teddy’s voice, and Teddy catches a surge of want inside him, a need to brush his fingers over Billy’s cheeks, and to rub his thumb on Billy’s lower lip until it’s hanging open, to put his hand on the back of Billy’s neck so he can  _ devour him _ .

“That’s fine,” Billy tells him, and gives him a tiny peck on the lips. A sweet, tiny thing that only makes Teddy’s hunger worse.

 

He wishes he could say that sometimes he holds back, that he’s better in social situations, or in front of certain people, or  _ something _ .

He’s  _ shamelessly needy _ . 

He’ll be talking with Mr. and Mrs. Kaplan about school, about homework, about his  _ adaptive process _ and Billy will say something, or turn slightly into him to give him an intimate, sweet smile, and he’ll notice the pull of his fingers on Billy’s hips, thumb just resting under the waistband of his jeans, inside the elastic band of his underwear, skin to skin. 

And then comes the mortification, the blushing, and stammering midway through a sentence, losing his train of thought, and Billy will frown at him in worry, and Mrs. Kaplan will look at him with knowing eyes and a soft smile that reminds him of his own mom and makes his chest feel tight and hollow and aching at the same time, and he’ll smile and keep going, his hand like a brand on Billy, and himself unable to stop thinking about it and burning, burning,  _ burning _ .

 

Teddy is a clingy boyfriend. And everyone knows, apparently. 

 

“Well, yeah, you’re not exactly subtle about it, dude. I swear you’re part octopus. It’s gross.” Tommy stops to give him a fleeting glance, then waves his hand around and adds: “Because he’s my soul baby brother, okay? I support you being gross otherwise.”

“Wow, thanks.”

Tommy gives him a shit eating grin, and Teddy tries to kick his feet, but Tommy’s up and on his own (hardly used) bunk bed, above Teddy’s, in half the time it takes Teddy to extend his leg from his lazy sprawl on his own bed.

Once they can’t see each other, and Teddy’s left staring at their desk chair spinning around lazily in the aftermath of Tommy’s sudden movement, Tommy starts speaking again:

“Don’t beat yourself up over being whatever you have to be and doing whatever you have to do to not be fucked up. There are far worse things you could be doing than holding onto your boyfriend. Even if he  _ is _ my little brother.”

And maybe Tommy’s right.

He lies on bed that night (late after Tommy’s slipped out, long gone to wherever it is he goes to soothe his need to  _ move _ ), and wonders whether this has anything to do with missing his mom, has anything to do with the hollowness inside him where there used to be warmth and reminders of day-to-day things, little notes stuck to the fridge in his mom’s careless scribbles ( _ t: pick up your clothes from the bathroom floor; t: if you aren’t eating that chinese, throw it out, i think it’s going sentient; t: IMPORTANT REMINDER MOM LOVES YOU and wants you to take out the trash) _ . 

Maybe it does. 

He allows himself a moment to just  _ feel _ the loss, which he doesn’t indulge in often. He knows Billy’s eyes trail after him with something heavy sometimes, can tell by the way he’ll hold his hand in a strong grip, fingers tight against his, a tangible enfolding presence, that he wishes Teddy would share a little more. 

Teddy sometimes wishes that too. 

Until he can, Teddy will keep on flushing and giving bashful smiles, and holding on. Fingers on Billy like a hold on life itself.

**Author's Note:**

> [ Come and hang out with me on tumblr!](http://memekon.tumblr.com)


End file.
